


Putting Out the Lantern, Find Your Own Way Back Home

by zara2148



Series: Praying for the Wicked on the Weekend [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, Established Relationship, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, their couch is starting to become a character in its own right, utterly shameless couple's banter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:27:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26091121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zara2148/pseuds/zara2148
Summary: It slips out without thinking, the first time Obi-Wan says it. "Welcome home.”Or, Obi-Wan and Maul settle into a partnership that's about more than just organized crime and promoting rebellion.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Darth Maul
Series: Praying for the Wicked on the Weekend [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1872874
Comments: 19
Kudos: 191





	Putting Out the Lantern, Find Your Own Way Back Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Just_a_Loth_Cat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_a_Loth_Cat/gifts), [coldishcase](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldishcase/gifts).



> So here we go, another work in this verse! Massive thanks to CC, who beta-read this. Like a true Sith, a good beta reader shows no mercy and tears apart your work to make it better.

It slips out without thinking, the first time Obi-Wan says it.

It happens early in their days together; much of their furniture is still new. He reclines alone on the couch, his reports done for now. There is still much to learn about running a crime syndicate, and the part of him that thrived as Rako Hardeen enjoys the intellectual challenge. Obi-Wan already has several strategies for reaching out to decentralized rebel cells and cultivating a mutually beneficial alliance, but they require a bit more thought before he can pitch a finished plan.

For now, he allows himself the luxury of unwinding with a novel. Oh, how long it has been since he could relax with a novel! During the war he had no time, and on Tatooine his energy and resources went toward ensuring his and the Lars’ survival. It was paramount that Luke grew up safe and cared for, difficult as that could be to achieve in a harsh, Hutt-ruled desert.

Now he has long stretches of free time to fill, foreign as the thought is. So he’s started reading what may prove to be the first of many novels. He relishes the unfamiliar words, enjoys another point of view.

But the book is not so engrossing that he fails to register familiar footsteps. Maul’s tread may not be as distinctive when he’s wearing boots, but there’s a weight to his steps that few match.

He glances up from the novel, a smile tugging at his lips without his notice. “Welcome home.”

“I wasn't aware I needed your approval to enter my rooms,” the Zabrak says with a hint of wryness and a raised eye ridge.

“It’s just something people say,” he replies, moving his eyes away from his book. Though the last time he said it, Anakin was his padawan and they shared an apartment in the temple. The  _ Negotiator _ was many things, but a true home it was not.

“I'm aware. I just fail to see why it warrants a verbal acknowledgment.” Maul’s features remain stoic and the Force around him is relatively calm. There is a slight hint of confusion, but Obi-Wan doesn’t dare open himself up to probe for more. Still, the conversation seems safe enough to continue.

“I suppose one person started it, long ago.” He shrugs, setting his book down on the caf table. “And then it just caught on with everyone else. As a sort of shared ritual, if you will.” It is fascinating to think about how things they take for granted every day must have started. 

“How pointless.” And of course, Maul sneers as he delivers that judgment — always above the petty ways of the common people. Obi-Wan holds back a snort at the thought. 

Only later will the tale of the fox and the over-ripened grapes pop into his mind, offering an alternate explanation.

“If it offends you, I don't have to say it,” he says then. Nice as it is to reclaim the routine, it isn’t worth the fight of pushing Maul into accepting it. Perhaps it might even be for the best, so he doesn’t get too comfortable and begins to think of this situation as more than it is — a business arrangement with some perks for both of them.

Maul waves the concern away. "It matters not to me if you indulge in a minor ritual. Do as you will." 

“How kind of you to give me your blessing,” Obi-Wan drawls. And that is that.

Obi-Wan falls into a routine after that. “Welcome home,” escapes his lips whenever he sees Maul walk through their door. On good days he might have a teasing edge to it, a prelude to an evening of playful banter. On days where Vos has been particularly trying there’s a weary warmth to it, an acknowledgment that the day is over and they’re together now. Once or twice he delivers it with a sultry edge and watches Maul’s eyes grow dark.

He sometimes catches a fleeting quirk of Maul’s lips as he enters their quarters, which he says nothing about. Perhaps it is because of his little archaic ritual, in a clear-cut case of cause and effect. And if it’s not, it is probably best to not inquire what could cause Maul to almost smile. 

The answer may horrify him.

* * *

Obi-Wan closes his duffel bag. The items inside should be enough to last him a few days. Ration bars, a couple changes of clothes, his comm, an emergency blaster, a spare toothbrush… He shouldn’t need much for a low-risk reconnaissance mission. Any difficulties that arise should be easily remedied with his charms and wits, not unnecessary violence.

He would be on his own for this, strange as that seems now. Maul would be busy elsewhere meeting with his fellow crime lords, in his capacity as the true leader of the Crimson Dawn and Black Sun syndicates. 

(Obi-Wan’s understanding of the name situation was this: Crimson Dawn was the organization’s true name, rebranded after Maul pieced it back together in the wake of a catastrophe. Likely a way of slapping a label on what Maul deemed his.

However, Crimson Dawn was still building its reputation as a power to be feared. Sometimes it was simpler to rely on the Black Sun’s infamous name and 1000-year history. Such as on Tatooine, which languished behind the times when it came to anything and everything.)

The syndicate leaders would meet for the normal reasons — addressing concerns and disputes, negotiating territories, possibly arranging a hit or two on troublesome parties. And apparently, Maul had to be there in person as a show of power. 

Others such as Jabba might simply holocomm. But Maul would stride into a room of potentially hostile rivals as a reminder that  _ he _ was the one they had to fear, and not vice versa. There’s also Maul’s refusal to indulge in any behavior that suggests a lack of mobility.

He has no plans to bring Obi-Wan along. “You would prove too distracting,” he said, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. Obi-Wan’s deflected enough to recognize when similar tricks are used on him, but he does not pry into the why, or insist that he escorts Maul.

Still, his coming absence was why Obi-Wan requested this simple mission, to fill the days that Maul would be away. A pampered consort he may be, but he refuses to become an idle plaything who merely sits around and waits for Maul’s return. He said as much to Maul, who grinned at “Ben’s” rejection of complacency. 

Perhaps this mission is an easier one than he might have liked, but it will be a relief to stretch his legs away from this space station. 

Still, there is a part of him that feels a slight ache already at being away from Maul (and he hasn’t even left yet!). As if his thoughts summon him, he hears that distinctive tread, followed by Maul’s smooth voice.

“Are you all packed?”

“Mmm, just about.” He turns his head to give Maul a grin. “Did you come to see me off?”

“Yes. I wouldn’t want you to get lost walking from here to a hanger.”

“One time. That happened one time.” Not long after arriving at the space station and getting an “official” if limited tour he started secretly walking around to develop his own mental map. Yes, he could have perhaps asked Maul for a more expansive tour, but that would still run into the potential problem of only seeing what he was allowed to see. 

There’s also the question of how much of his internal workings he should let Maul see. As unnecessarily paranoid as the thought may be, Obi-Wan is hesitant to let Maul know he has several escape routes planned if he needs to fly from this station. Perhaps Obi-Wan’s caution would please him, to know that he has a capable right hand who shares a paranoid streak with him. 

Given the abandonment issues the crime lord broadcasts with all the subtlety of the typical Imperial News anchor, he imagines it might not. Maul has sworn to hunt him down if he runs, and it would be foolish to not take him at his word. Having no intention of running is not the same as having no  _ plans _ for running; he believes in being prepared should his intentions change.

‘I got lost’ had just been a convenient excuse when caught exploring. 

“But first,” Maul murmurs, “A quick kiss.” He leans in to capture Obi-Wan’s lips. When they break apart for air, Obi-Wan recovers enough higher brain functions to wonder how it’s possible to feel so lost yet sense that he’s right where he should be. Unfamiliar to himself yet understood.

It’s not a feeling he can easily put into words, so he settles for a quip. “Was that a good-bye, or a reason for me to hurry back?”

“Oh, Ben,” Maul almost sighs as he runs an intricately tattooed hand down his cheek. “Why would I stop at only one reason, if that was my aim?”

Obi-Wan does not shiver, though it’s a close call. “Alas, I’m not sure we have time for a detailed reminder of what I’ll be missing. Let’s save it for when I get back.”

He makes it to his craft without further incident, and Obi-Wan tries not to feel too disappointed about that.

* * *

The mission turns out to be more demanding than he initially expected, though still nowhere near as taxing as an average day fighting the Clone Wars. Some fast-talking is enough to handle the worst of it, but he’s still gone for a couple days longer than he expected.

Maul is first to return from his meeting, their rooms somehow emptier yet more full than they ever were before Ben joined him. Memories of conversations and touches haunt him with Kenobi’s absence.

Obi-Wan leaves a few comm messages while he’s gone, at least one a day. Short, only what he’s able to manage when he slips away for a private moment. He is reminded of Anakin, of the ‘secret’ calls he would make to Padme that he failed to be discreet about. Wryly, he wonders if he’s just as transparent with his excuses.

Their schedules are too in flux to properly sync up until he catches Maul that first night back in their quarters. Golden eyes gleam as the comm rings, eager for more than just a recording. Maul has replayed and memorized them all.

“You should be back by now. Why aren’t you here?” The attempted glare is reproachful, but the tone isn’t testy so much as it’s faintly sulky. 

“Apologies, I may have overestimated my abilities a tad. I should be back in your arms by tomorrow evening,” he teases.

Maul looks as if he can’t decide between hanging up or reaching through the holoprojector to grab him. Need and his resentment of it war in his eyes.

Longing wins out. “You better be,” he says with something that’s between a snarl and a sigh.

“I assure you, I will be,” he replies, softer. “And as much as I’d love to hear just what you plan for me when I do return, I must get back to work now. So, just think about that until I come home.”

Obi-Wan hangs up, the last word once again successfully snatched. It’s become a ritual of theirs-- ‘Ben’ hanging up on Maul. He isn’t sure why the Sith lets him get away with it; if he were inclined to psychoanalyze it, he may realize that Maul is simply never one to leave first, he is always  _ left _ .

Silence reclaims their rooms, Ben’s last words left to echo in Maul’s head.

* * *

Obi-Wan’s steps are light as he enters their quarters, a feeling of accomplishment thrumming in his veins. "I'm back," he says without thinking, obvious as it was. A droid follows behind him, carrying his luggage.

"Welcome home." Maul’s voice is a near whisper from the couch, with a trace of naked uncertainty. 

The smile on Obi-Wan’s face widens, and he saunters over to the couch, dropping onto it without preamble. “I’m home,” he agrees before leaning in to press a kiss on Maul’s cheek.

Maul is already grabbing him before he can move away, reeling him back in for a proper kiss on the lips. His hands grip Obi-Wan’s shoulders, and Obi-Wan’s hands wind around him, clinging to his back.

They’re still holding onto each other when they break for air. "Did someone miss me?" Obi-Wan teases when he can breathe again.

“Yes, presumably everyone on your little reconnaissance,” Maul deadpans, a slight smirk on his face.

Obi-Wan snorts. “Presumably? So there’s some doubt about it? How dare.” He still moves closer.

“I did submit my report before coming here, so you  _ could  _ read it and familiarize yourself with exactly how well I carried out my appointed task. It would be  _ such  _ a shame though, when you can instead, have me to yourself for the rest of the evening.” The back of Obi-Wan’s hand presses itself against his forehead, expressing mock woe. “Oh, whatever is to be done with me?”

With a swift movement, Obi-Wan finds himself on his back. Maul towers over him, pinning him to the couch with a throaty growl. “You’re about to find out.”

He consumes Obi-Wan’s dry “Oh, I’m quite certain,” with a kiss. Obi-Wan’s hands move down to Maul’s hips, coming to a stop at the juncture that separates man from machine.

Words quickly become meaningless after that.


End file.
